


My Apologies, Monsieur

by mmorgaan



Category: Larry Stylinson - Fandom, Medicine - Harry Styles (Song), One Direction (Band)
Genre: Harry is a Little Shit, Harry is french, Larry Stylinson Is Real, Louis gets off on it, M/M, larry stylinson - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-16
Updated: 2018-09-16
Packaged: 2019-07-13 06:26:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16012166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mmorgaan/pseuds/mmorgaan
Summary: harry is a rich french dude and louis is a poor hopeless romantic, both living in manhattan. harry breaks louis' phone one day and in return, he gets a date.





	1. Apologies

        “I don’t even know what I’m doing with my life, man. I’m no good at art, I can’t cook, and I think we both agree that I can’t sing for shit.”

 

        Lie, lie, aaaand lie. Louis wasn’t good at drawing type of art, more like I-can-take-pictures-of-simple-boring-things-and-kind-of-draw-them art. And photography. Some of his photos have been noticed and used in ADs and magazines but he was nowhere near famous or even remotely known for them, other than in his decently-sized group of friends down here in Manhattan.

 

        “Dude, you can cook-”

 

        “Zayn, I have half the ability to cook ramen noodles and my main meal that I fix myself is cereal.”

 

        “You make a killer bowl of Rice Krispies, shut it,”

 

        As a kid Louis always told himself he would be the number one chef in New York -- or wherever he ended up as an adult -- but that career was sent down the drain, just like the burnt green beans he attempted to make last night.

 

        “and you aren’t horrible at singing. You’re better than me!”

 

        That was the biggest lie that had been told in the last seven minutes: Zayn was probably the best singer in this town, at least that wasn’t well-known by people other than Louis, Niall, and Liam.

 

        The truth was -- the one thing Louis wanted to really do as an adult was to find the “one”. As in, the “one” true love. The “one” guy made for him. But, as it was immensely hard to find another attractive gay guy here that is willing to be in more than a one-night stand.

 

        “You know what, Malik, shove a sock in it, you prick.  _ You are a fantastic singer. _ ” 

 

        “Whatever - no time to argue, gotta meet Liam for lunch. Text you later?”

 

        Liam was Zayn’s boyfriend that he absolutely adored beyond compare. They were a cute couple most of the time but partly could be annoyingly gushy and lovey-dovey. Usually if they’re with new, unfamiliar people that can contain themselves, but when they’re only with me or Niall, they tend to make-out and sometimes they’ve gone a bit farther but Louis didn’t exactly like reminiscing on the numerous memories.

 

        “Yeah,” Louis nodded. “catch you later. Remember the movie tomorrow.”

 

        Zayn clicked his tongue, winked and pointed two fingers at Louis before smiling and strutting off in the opposite direction, leaving Louis alone at some large fountain to wonder what he’s going to do now.

 

        Louis had lived in New York now for a full year but in this year he had either always been with his friends or just alone in his apartment just a few blocks away from Central Park, so he guessed that he would just wander back to his apartment of five rooms.

 

        As he turned the corner, Louis decided to jog, so jogging around the corner, he ran a few more feet before glancing down to look at his phone for something. As soon as he looked back up, his chin collided with the top of another man's chest. Louis’ phone shattered against the pavement and he wished that he could just beat himself up right here, right now for choosing  _ this  _ day to not put his case on his phone because he didn’t think he would need it. He heard the heart-shattering noise that indicated that his screen was cracked and bent down to swoop it back into his hand.

 

        “ _ Shit _ ,” Louis muttered. “this is gonna cost at least $130.” He shook his head, slightly pissed, as the man he ran into gripped his wrist gently.

 

        “Oh, monsieur, I’m so sorry,” He spoke. His voice was low, so low it was as if he hit puberty at age 8. To go along with his low-ness, he had an accent. Obviously French, but difficult to tell from what part. As he dared to look up to meet the man's face, the little air he had left in his lungs for the next ten minutes (he needed to run more) almost completely left his body.

 

        The man had dark brown hair, the shade of a mix between dark and milk chocolate, with piercing green eyes, identical to the shade of green Christmas tinsel. His lips were barbie pink, as if he were wearing MAC Lipstick, not to mention plump.

 

        His fashion choice was… interesting, to say the least. Definitely odd compared to the choice of clothing people have here. The man was proudly wearing a long, leopard-printed coat with black skinny jeans and brown ankle boots that looked an awful lot like a girls’. They even had inched heels!

 

        “No, no, it’s okay. I’m.. I’m pretty sure I have the money.” The man looked immensely  guilty at breaking his phone, so Louis didn’t want to make him feel worse than he already did.

 

        “Oh, don’t be silly,” he shook his head and started scrounging through his pockets for spare money. “I caused you to drop your phone, allow me to pay for it. I have the money.”

 

        Louis giggled. “Are you sure you have money left after buying that coat? It looks like it cost a fortune.” This caused the man to laugh. His laugh was gorgeous and Louis thought that it may have the power to cure cancer.

 

        “No, actually it only cost $900. However I am an artist and I sell my work so I’m not really, how you say.. poor?” He giggled again before shoving his hand toward Louis. “My name is Harry. And what is yours, may I ask?”

 

        Louis couldn’t help but smile gently at him before shaking his offered hand. “I’m Louis Tomlinson. I love your name, where does it come from?” He questioned, trying anything to continue talking to Harry.

 

        “Uh, I am not completely sure. Someplace.” He smiled, once again showing off his perfectly straight, white teeth.

 

        “Maybe your parents named you after Harry Potter?” Louis was joking, but this caused Harry to possess a puzzled face.

 

        “Who?”

 

        “Harry Potter. Book series. Famous teenage wizard?” Harry still looked confused. Maybe they didn’t have it in France, or he’s honestly just never heard of it.

 

        Harry shook his head and looked down at his own phone after it beeped. He looked back up. “I have to leave now, meeting up with someone that wanted to buy my new painting- I was actually on my way when I ran into you.”

 

        Louis straightened his green hoodie. “Okay.. We should hang out again sometime- maybe we could read the Harry Potter series together!” He joked, laughing with it.

 

        He couldn’t exactly tell if Harry was blushing or not, but it was cute either way. “Oh? Okay, here is my number,” he had pulled out paper and was scribbling down various numbers before handing it to Louis.

 

        Louis copied the number into his contacts, adding his name as  **‘** **_Harry Potter ;-)’._ ** He typed something and immediately, Harry’s phone buzzed and he looked at it to see one new message.

 

_         Hiya, it's louis. :) _

 

        Harry giggled and saved Louis’ number in his phone as  **‘Lou :D’**

 

        “Okay, hang out some other time then?” Harry questioned.

 

        “Some other time, yeah,” Louis confirmed. As they smiled at each other and parted ways, Louis realized,  _ maybe New York won’t be as lonely as he thought. _


	2. Firsts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> louis goes to harrys apartment in an attempt to learn anything else about him, while also getting something out of him.

        “So you’re meeting him tonight night instead of our arcade night? Okay, rude.”

 

        “I’m sorry, bud, but he’s sweet. Not to mention he has a hot face.”

 

        Louis, Zayn, Niall and Liam were all sat at a round table in the back corner of McDonalds.

 

        It had been exactly a week since Louis and Harry had met up and since then, Louis had fallen more for him than he had the first time he saw him. He couldn’t shut up about how nice he was or how innocent he seemed, or how sparkly his green eyes were in the sunlight. He couldn’t stop describing how sexy his French accent was, especially when he said his name, or the cute widows peak in his hair. He eventually somehow went from adorable compliments to describing how hot he thought Harry would be in bed, which probably wasn’t the best choice after thinking about it.

 

        “Lou, I’m happy for you, but what if he isn’t what you think he is? What if he’s a spy sent from Iraq or something to get illegal information? What if he’s a serial killer? What if-”

 

        “ _ Niall. _ He’s neither of those things and even if he were, it would still probably be hot.”

 

        “So you’re saying,” Niall sat up straighter, stirred around his Dr. Pepper with his straw. “that this guy-”

 

        “Harry,” Louis interrupted, resulting in Niall glaring at him and blowing excess drink at him off of his straw.

 

        “-that  _ Harry _ could literally cut your face off, and you would still want him to fuck you senseless?”

 

        “Or to make you both peppermint tea and watch Christmas movies with you under a huge blanket?” Liam spoke, cutting in after he finally climbed off of Zayn’s lap to actually make an effort in talking to us.

 

        Louis thought for a moment. “Basically. Look,” he pulled out his phone and went to Harry’s contact, pulling up the selfie he had taken after their meeting to send to Louis.

 

        Harry was at home - at least it looked like a home - and was wearing an old ratty hoodie, his hair let down and freshly washed. His hair came down to his shoulders and was insanely curly, parting on the right side of his head. He was sticking his tongue out the side of his mouth, smiling, and doing a thumbs-up gesture. It was cute.

 

“Does he look like a serial killer to you?”

 

        “No, but that text he just sent you looks like an invite to make out,” Zayn spoke. He giggled and wrapped his arm around Liam and Louis whipped his phone back around to his face to see a text notification at the top of his screen from.. Harry.

 

**_Hi. :) I’ve been alone all day and I’m very bored. Want to come over early?_**

 

        Louis grinned and may or may not have blushed a little, because Niall reached over and poked his warm cheek with his ice-cold finger.

 

        “Aw. Someone’s blushy.” Louis smacked Niall’s hand away from his face but kept the grin as he typed away at a reply to his new friend.

 

**_Hiii ! :) Yeah, i can be over whenever . lemme just finish up w/ my friends :) xxx_ **

 

        “I gotta go, meet you guys later,” Louis pitched, yanking out ten dollars to pay for his meal, getting up from the booth, grabbing his jacket and scarf before doing anything but full-fledged running out of the building, never taking his eyes off of the screen. His smile stayed on his face until he got to his car, where he put his phone away and drove off to Harry’s apartment.

 

\--

 

        Not ten seconds after he knocked, the door swung open and Louis was met with Harry’s bright, happy face.

 

        “Hello!” Harry chirped, motioning for Louis to come inside and get a break from the bitter cold.

 

        Louis obliged, huddling into the warmth of the small room. Harry shut the door with a click. “Please, Louis, make yourself at home. Or, at apartment,” He tried, giggling. 

 

        Louis laughed at the attempt and nodded, leaning down to sit on the worn, maroon couch. He unwrapped his old scarf and peeled his brown trench coat off his body, tossing them next to him on the seat.

 

        Harry walked over with two mugs of hot chocolate. Steam was flying upward into the air and the marshmallows tilted left and right in the drink as he sat to the right of Louis.

 

        Louis noticed that Harry was again wearing the ratty, old, grey hoodie with, once again, black skinny jeans and bright pink socks. Louis giggled at his socks, which were filled with his bony feet, and Harry blushed.

 

        Louis adjusted his t-shirt and shook his hair. I peered around the maroon room, which had white christmas lights hung around the windows and in the corners of the walls, along with framed pictures of him and a girl with pink and purple hair and a beanie, who looked to be about 20 or so. He had some with his family, some with friends back in France, plus some artwork obviously drawn by a toddler. One of them had ‘ _ avoir du plaisir harry Tu vas nous manquer’  _ across the top, scrawled in purple crayon with two people drawn below it. He assumed the taller one was Harry and the little one was whoever drew the picture. It was sweet.

 

        “Are you looking at the drawing?” Harry piped up next to him. Louis jumped and turned around to look at him with pink cheeks that matched Harry’s.

 

        “Uh, yeah, sorry. Who drew it, if you don’t mind me asking?” he looked back at the picture of Harry and the girl. “And who’s that girl? She’s pretty. She looks like you, too.”

 

        “That would be my sister. She is still in Paris,” he looked at the photograph with a dumb grin on his face, then moved to the drawing. “My cousin, William, drew this for me when I had told them I was planning on moving here, to New York.”

 

        Louis nodded, honestly interested. “What does it mean, what’s written on it? I’m shit at French,” he explained. He giggled and Harry told him that was fine, which earned another smile from Louis.

 

        “It means ‘ _ Have fun, Harry, we’ll miss you _ ’.” he explained. He wanted to know more and more about Harry, wanted to know all the little details about him - but it was much too early for that.

 

        Harry strided back over to the couch and plopped down next to Louis, leaning back against the back of the couch. He stared at Louis. A smile quickly appeared on his pink lips and Louis pretended not to notice. Louis tried everything in the world not to smile back or blush but he did not succeed in not blushing.

  
        "Sorry if I am being straight-forward, but you are really.. how you say, hot." He noted. The statement caused Louis to turn back in disbelief because, well, Louis thought Harry was nice-looking, but he didn't expect Louis to think the same about him, at the very least "hot".  
  
        They looked at each other for about 30 seconds, their eyes both flickering back and forth between their lips. Louis' heart was racing. It was beating at about the same pace as it did when he was fourteen and had his first kiss with Cheryl Prose, behind their high school.  
  
        The two had skipped their fourth period class because Cheryl was hot and persuasive, and had somehow convinced Louis to come out with her to make out. At the time he had a huge crush on her, along with every single guy in years nine, ten, eleven and twelve, and was straight. The kiss was nice and Louis had felt like his heart was about to tear out of his chest, but as soon as it was over, she told him she would call him. She never did and she went out with every other guy that liked her until she graduated the next year, and he hasn't seen her since.  
  
        The memory always haunted him, made him scared to fall for anyone else, in fear of them using him. using him exactly like Cheryl did for their entertainment. Louis hadn't been in another real relationship since then.  
  
        Yet, something in his mind snapped and before he knew it, Louis had the nape of Harry's neck in his hand along with a fistful of his curly hair. Before he knew it, Louis was telling himself, 'Fuck it'. Before he knew it, Louis was pulling Harry to him and had their lips pressed together.


End file.
